


Alternate Universe

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: What if?





	Alternate Universe

_What if the Klingons didn't exist?_

It's an attractive thought. Even Hugh, who is sworn to respect and protect life in all its forms, can't deny that. The idea is so pleasant, it becomes a meme of sorts. People use it as a caption on 3-D images of multi-species groups holding hands, of a crowd around a record-setting bowl of ice cream, many metres long, and on a manipulated picture of a Starfleet officer with a flower growing from the tip of her blaster. 

After two or three dozen similar images cross his comm, Hugh finds himself actually thinking about it seriously. What if the Klingons didn't exist, or, more specifically, what if they hadn't declared war? How would his life be different? 

He might still be on the _Discovery_ , but the cases he'd be dealing with would be of the mundane type he saw before the war: strained muscles from overexertion in the gym, chemical burns from accidents in the lab, the rare exotic STI from an ill-conceived shore leave tryst.

His superior officers, too, would be different. Captain Lorca would be a vague bad dream, the kind of CO Hugh read about on anonymous, unofficial personnel forums and immediately felt sorry for the poor bastards under his command. Someone like the captain _Discovery_ had before, level-headed, calm and scientific, would be in charge, and life would be far less stressful in that way, as well. 

Mostly, though, Hugh's personal life would be vastly changed if the Klingons had elected to keep to themselves. 

He wonders, sometimes, if he might have met Paul planetside. It's doubtful, but not impossible. Paul told him he and Straal occasionally went to a Starfleet bar that Hugh frequented once or twice. There's a chance, however small, they could have run into each other. Hugh can picture it. He would go up to the bar to find Paul standing there, griping about the drinks or the service or the colour of the walls. Hugh would notice him, there's no doubt about that. He's always been attracted to sardonic guys, and physically, Paul is very much Hugh's type. Hugh would offer to buy him a drink, Paul would accept—he's Paul's type, too—and they would end up back at Hugh's place. The sex would be amazing, that's never been a problem for them, and then...

And then, Hugh always concludes, that would be that. Paul's not easy to love, he himself is the first to admit it. If they hadn't been forced together by the circumstances they're in, Hugh can't honestly say he'd put in the effort to keep him. That would be his loss. Paul might not be easy, but he's worthwhile, the most worthwhile man Hugh's ever met. The only worthwhile part of this whole fucking war, and something—someone—Hugh would have missed out on if not for the Klingons. 

“That fucking shit again?” Paul says, as he comes out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, and glances over Hugh's shoulder at his comm. This time, _What if the Klingons didn't exist?_ is the caption to what looks like some sort of mass wedding ceremony, with hundreds of couples of all genders and many species kissing in front of the Golden Gate bridge. “It's nice to know some people have literally nothing to do with their time.” 

“Paul.” 

“What?” Paul looks at him, but Hugh's mind goes blank. Paul might be difficult, but Hugh isn't easy, either. He knows that. 

“I...” He begins, then stops. “It's worth it,” he says, finally, although that doesn't come close to expressing what he means. 

Paul snorts derisively. “Right. I'll be sure to tell that to all the people who were, you know, murdered.” 

Hugh shakes his head. He can't explain it; he doesn't have the words. 

Still, Paul comes over to him, crossing the small space between the dresser and Hugh's chair. As chief medical officer, Hugh has the privilege of private quarters, but over the last few months, more and more of Paul's things have migrated over. Hugh is fairly certain they're now living together. “Hugh,” Paul says, and when Hugh looks up, Paul kisses him. 

In that one kiss, Paul says everything Hugh can't. Paul is difficult, and sarcastic and brilliant and disrespectful, and he's also absolutely perfect. When he pulls away, Hugh feels a glimmer of disappointment. It's immediately tempered by Paul saying, “Let me get dressed, and we can go grab dinner and make fun of other people's eating habits.” 

Hugh laughs. “Sounds romantic.” 

“Romantic enough for you,” Paul counters, and Hugh can't argue with that. _What if the Klingons didn't exist?_ Hugh asks himself, and realizes he really doesn't want to know.


End file.
